Regarding the Sunshine Suspiciously
by soft-sweater
Summary: A House and Wilson romance.


House was lying spread eagled on his bed, coat and shoes still attached. He'd hobbled into his bedroom as soon as he'd gotten home from work and collapsed on his back onto the bed. His shoulder was stiff and his back was aching, but that wasn't totally unusual; walking was a slightly more strenuous task for a cripple. He reached into his coat pocket for the little orange canister of pills that lived there. He opened the lid, shook two of them out and swallowed them, dry. He put the canister back and closed his eyes. The wind brushed a branch against the window. He briefly entertained the idea of calling Wilson to come over, but scrapped it. House had noticed a slight change in his thought patterns when they revolved around Wilson, and it made him deeply uneasy. He felt a bit of space was maybe what was needed. He opened his eyes to look at the ceiling for a minute before getting up for his evening glass of bourbon.

When he'd thumped down onto the couch a few minutes later with a full tumbler in his hand, he was already considering calling Wilson again. _It's only seven thirty. _He'd said to himself. _Wilson could come over and watch some of Emergency Medical Drama. I have it TiVo'd. _He kicked off his shoes and looked around to try and locate either the phone or the television remote. He found the phone first and stared at it. He turned it on and then shut it off again. He felt a squirm in his stomach when he realized what this situation was reminding him of.

He decided to watch Emergency Medical Drama by himself tonight.

The next morning Wilson opened the blinds to his apartment, the sun shone and he regarded it suspiciously while buttoning up his shirt. As he was tying his morning Windsor knot, he heard a tap at the living room window. He looked out to find House standing there, leaning casually on his cane and examining his fingernails. House looked up and feigned surprise as Wilson opened the window to poke his head out.

"What are you doing here?" House said, mockingly, but his eyes only showed good humour.

"I could ask you the same question." Wilson said dismissively, rolling his eyes and retreating his head from the window to go open the front door.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you last night." House yelled before Wilson could get very far away from the window.

Wilson paused. House was known to make quips like this, but there was a tone of seriousness behind that usual mask of irony that made Wilson nervous.

"Me too. " Wilson said darkly, more to himself than anyone else, but House caught his tone and smiled.

"You know, there is this place called 'work'..." Wilson said, trailing off to let House in.

"Is that lavender?" House said, sniffing the air.

"Um, yes." Wilson said, regarding House behind bushy eyebrows, "One of my patients bought me a plant"

"And you took it from them? They're dying!" House said, in mock outrage. He walked up to the plant and tore a purple flower off of it and rubbed it between his fingers.

"You know that these things have antidepressant properties, right? Do you think that your patient was trying to imply something..?" House's voice trailed away to observe a cluster of ties draped over a nearby chair.

"She was just trying to be nice." Wilson said shaking his head.

"Did you sleep with her?"

Wilson put his hands on his hips and looked down with a humourless chuckle. "What do you want, House?"

"I told you, I've been thinking about you." House said a little quickly. As if to ignore the very words that were coming out of his mouth he looked around, attempting to find something to focus on.

"Ah, yes. You said something about that."

House swiped a finger across the coffee table. A considerable amount of dust came with it. He glanced at Wilson with an accusatory look in his eye then sat down heavily on the couch and put his feet up.

Wilson was still standing by the front door. He looked frozen with his mouth slightly open and his hands still on his hips. "What are you doing?" He said, exasperated and truly puzzled. He was used to having his boundaries stepped on by House, but it never seemed to stop surprising him.

House looked at Wilson and then looked away in the direction of the collection of ties. "I'm obsessed with you".

House's words hung heavily for a few beats.

Wilson's eyes unfocused and then he quickly swung his gaze over to look at House who was still staring at the ties. "What?" Wilson said, genuinely baffled. This was confusing Wilson to a degree he wasn't used to. He felt like he was at the butt of a practical joke, like House was about to stand up, slap him on the back, point at a hidden camera and say something along the lines of "You've been Punk'd!"

House looked up innocently.

Wilson stared, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other.

"I was_ hoping _that you might like to..." he let the 'to' drag out for an unnecessarily large amount of time "...maybe get a drink sometime?"

Wilson's face contorted into a visage familiar to House. The look of inexplicable confusion. Usually it was House's cue to make a smooth exit, leaving Wilson to ponder, in silence, whatever absurd thing House had just said. Today House decided to wait it out.

Wilson was looking off to the left somewhere. House playfully leaned forward and pretended to be interested in whatever it was Wilson was looking so shocked about off in the corner of the living room (which of course, was nothing). He gave that up and leaned back against the back of the couch. "Well?" He was getting impatient and a little anxious.

Wilson's expressions softened slightly, but only to look down and shake his head. "House, I don't know what you're getting at. If you want to borrow money just ask. "

It was House's turn to look baffled, his eyes hardened as he realized that Wilson really had no idea _what_ he was getting at.

"Wilson, I lurve you ."

"You what?"

"You know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's. "

"Are you quoting Woody Allen?"

"Maybe."

"Er, I luff you too?" Wilson looked as if he'd just seen David Bowie walk in the front door, take something, wave, and then leave whilst wearing a fedora and absolutely nothing else.

_Well, this is going swimmingly _House thought to himself sarcastically. He stood up, favouring his bad leg and headed for the door. He pushed by Wilson but stopped before exiting. He pulled a ragged looking yellow rose with deep red tips and thrust it into Wilson's hands. Wilson looked at it and House gave him a final meaningful, look before stepping out the front door (and over a pile of David Bowie's clothing) and off in the direction of his car.

To be continued... hopefully.


End file.
